Not Worth the Save
by musichangover
Summary: He let the doubts cross his mind, but let the fact that he was with her roam his heart.Ryro.
1. Chapter 1

**Not Worth the Save**

**Chapter 1**

"I never _asked_ you to save me!" Pyro screamed at Rogue during the height of their argument.

"You're right. Now why didn't I _just_ leave you to die?!" She was very sarcastic and the next words of her sentence dripped with hurt and anger. "_Why_?" Tears formed at her eyes. "Cause I'm _not_ a heartless monster." Pause. "I'm not _you_."

He watched her reatreat to herself and sit of the edge of her bed, bending down so her face was covered by her hands anad her arms were supported by her lap. He could hear a sob, but it didn't matter. He grabbed his jacket off the bed from behind her and put it on, glaring at her with disgust.

"Yeah," he said, shoving one arm into the jacket. "You're not like me. You're weak." Emphasis on the last word, he strode out of the apartment, slamming the door extra hard behind him. He ran down the staircase flicking his lighter open and closed repeatedly. Was this anxiety? He stopped on the bottom stepped and breathed deeply. _Damn it_. He turned, and ran back up, half-colliding with her on the way. She took a step back and folded her arms, unsure.

They stood there for a few moments, him staring at the ground, and her straight at the wall beside her. Finally –

"I was gonna ask you to come back," Rogue muttered. She looked down at him, hoping he'd atleast make eye contact.

He didn't, but stared even harder at the ground. She moved a step down and placed her hand on his cheek. He looked up at her, and took her hand, placing it near his mouth and kissed it tenderly.

"I was gonna come back." A pause, and he gritted his teeth at the words he was about to say. "I'm sorry." He moved up a step, and, said, even more sincerely, "I'm sorry."

With that she leaned in and kissed him square on the lips. He complied to her action, and kissed her bag, one of his hands cupping the back of her head and the other lying softly on her hip. They're kiss grew deeper. Her hands locked around his neck and pulled him closer. He directed her swiftly as they made their way back to her apartment.

:::::::::::::

Was it coldness she saw in his eyes as she watched him fight Bobby down to the death? It was a very stiff fight, with no exit. Pyro had sealed the two of them an arena with fire for walls. They were standing on empty land, near a dock, near the sea. This was it. He would win. He would definitely win.

Pyro glanced at Rogue, and it only caused him to strike at Iceman even harder. The flames were practically coming alive, with their own desperation for vengeance. He wanted to cause pain. But on the other hand, Rogue's glance at him, from frightened and on guard, turned softer. What was she seeing in his eyes? It was true, the man – oh yeah, cause we're all grown up now, she added with a bitter afterthought – could burn from the inside. Ferocious. But yet he looked so cold. Colder than anything Bobby could freeze. It was a cold that ran like an abyss in his soul. It was like something had finally torn his heart to dust.

Rogue broke from her momentary trance as she saw Bobby send a large sharp bolt of ice at Pyro, and have it strike him down as it hit him in the shoulder. Pyro backed up slightly in shock, but kept focus long enough to merely be decked. Things were not going his way anymore. The wall of flames seemed to lose control and slowly die down. Rogue looked at Bobby, who was acting just as merciless as Pyro, and then in a split-moment, took action. She took a step back for momentum, and ran at the wall, jumping through a slightly open path, and landing on her feet, pulling off her jacket, which had caught on fire.

"Bobby, stop it!" she called to him, hoping he'd hear her out.

But no, the once-friends were clearly beyond reasoning. She could see the venom in Bobby's glare, despite the self-defense, and she knew well beyond anything that if given the chance, Pyro would rip out his old friend's throat. She looked back at the walls that surrounded them. They were growing weaker. Pyro was growing weaker.

Rogue jumped forward and took hold of Bobby's shoulder. Her ex-boyfriend was pummeling her ex-bestfriend up, hitting him across the head with great timing and repeated sharp blows. She pulled off Bobby from the bleeding Pyro. It seemed like a quart of his blood supply had already poured out from his shoulder wound, and the side of his bleeding mouth. Even Pyro could feel and taste the blooding jamming up in the back of his throat. Bobby backed away slightly, examining the damage he'd inflicted, examining the person he couldn't believe was once his most trusted ally. Rogue, however, knelt down next to Pyro and whispered a flurry of curses in shock of the sight of him.

"We have to get him some help," she declared, turning frantically to Bobby. He shook his head, his eyes hardening with disagreement.

Rogue turned back to Pyro, trying to stop the swift flow of blood from his shoulder with her bare hands – no use, he was still bleeding. Pyro winced slightly at the feel of her touch. She was warmed up, maybe cause of the fire. But she was still holding onto him tightly, willing him to hang on, wanting him to live.

"Rogue," he said, bracing himself, and causing her to bend down so that her hair hid their faces and their conversation. "This will hurt." He coughed slightly. His lighter flicked open, and as Bobby saw the flame burst out and trace around Rogue, Pyro stood up groggily, and ran through the flames that surrounded his old friends.

Rogue was shrieking at the sudden burst of fire, and trying to shake off the fire. The girl really couldn't keep her head in certain situations, Pyro mused. He walked through the fire as it grew stronger, ready to burn the two inside, or, atleast, burn Bobby. But no, as he succumbed to the darkness and to his escape, he saw that Iceman was in the process of turning the place into a winter wonderland. Ice had burned up all the fire walls, and the area inside it. He was holding Rogue tightly, freezing off the fire that stuck to her.

"I think it's time you gave up on him," Bobby whispered to her.

She whipped towards him, and glared daggers. "He's still John." Pause. "Somewhere, in him, I saw John."

And she was sure of it.

_**A/N: Comment it, love it(maybe?), let me hear what you gotta say, cause I'm starting up a second chapter.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: _**

**_Ooh, boy, so, the author of this story (Me =]) FORGOT to mention in the first chapter that the whole Bobby VS. John part-o-da-story was a semi-sorta flashback. I apologize._**

**_To make things easier, I've italicized the flashback parts._**

**_And I don't own the X-Men, and I don't own Rogue&John._**

**Not Worth the Save**

**Chapter 2**

Pyro put out the cigarette he had been smoking as he gazed outside the window of Rogue's apartment. He had smashed it against the window pane, and then flung it down all three floors. He exhaled faint smoke out of his mouth, and the cooling sensation of kissing fire made his relax. He was tense. He was always tense. Not because someone was after him, not because he wasn't suppose to be where he was, but because of her. He bent back and stared through the open door into her bedroom. She wasn't where she was, when ten minutes ago he'd seen her asleep on that fit-for-two bed of hers, with the covers lying carelessly around her. He couldn't deny it, she'd look so…tempting. Even asleep, he wanted to be close to her, wanted to claim her as his. Where was she?

He reached into his pocket for his lighter, but quickly stowed it away on a nearby desk when he felt two arms wrap around his waist, gentle, soft.

"You said you'd quit," she whispered, quietly drawling, setting his insides ablaze. He felt her forehead pinned against his back. "I love you, John."

"I know," he replied shortly, pulling her arms away. He checked his watch briefly. "I gotta go."

With that, he stole away from her, not even glancing at the surprised and apprehensive expression on her face, and left. She turned back just in time to hear him shut the door quietly. Outside, he stopped in place, and considered the last two minutes. He was mean, simply put. Everytime he'd ache for her to be with him, and when she was, he'd push her away and leave, separating them by miles, for hours. _Was_ this a relationship? It seemed that their "relationship" was mostly composed of silent moments. Sure, he'd hold her hand, most of the time they made out, and the other times were just…uhm, _pleasurable_. He wanted Rogue. He really did. Pushing current thoughts out of his mind, he stalked down the staircase.

**::::::::::::::::::::::::::::**

_He'd watched her for an hour, while she stood by the window, grabbing things from everywhere and stuffing it into a suitcase. He'd waited past the entrance of many people – Wolverine, Iceman, Storm – until she was alone. Then he made his entrance. Getting into her room was easy, and when she had her back to him, deciding what to take out of her cabinet, he wrapped one warm arm around her waist and cupped her mouth to silence any possible scream. He could feel her jolt to caution, trying to get a corner-eye view of the person who'd jumped her. _

"_You saved my life," he whispered gently into her ear. The breath made her run on fire, but she felt the chill of cold behind it. He wasn't thanking her in any way. _

"_I saved you from an ass-kicking," she replied, removing his arm from around her and pushing his hand away. He caught her even stronger, even though it hurt his bandaged shoulder, he held her tight, and pushed against the hanging garments in her closet. _

"_You talk a lot for someone I can snap in two in, y'know', two seconds."_

"_Get – off – me, John!" she hissed quietly, pushing him away once again, and turning to face him. _

_It was the first time she'd really seen him up close. He wasn't smiling, not even smirking. He looked blankly at her, no emotion at first, but she knew she was showing a lot of emotion. Just like anger, and maybe some embarrassment about him and her being that close to each other. She'd never even hugged him before, or done anything besides a slap on the hand, a punch on the arm, and a tap on the shoulder. She had never even shaken his hand. He was staring at her intently, but there was no purpose beyond the dead stare. He moved forward, gritting his teeth slowly, so they were shaded by the dim lighting, and the depths of the darkened closet. His eyes stared down at the floor, but hers were pasted onto his. _

"_What if I don't?" he asked in dangerously low tones. _

_His lips traced on hers. There was no sloppy kiss, not even a deepened one. It was a brush against her lips, just tracing friction. She didn't move at all. He backed away. Still, it was a kiss. _

"_Tell me, Rogue. What do you want me to do?" He looked at her now, carefully staring into her, demanding answer. She didn't say anything. He breathed down to her, then took a step back, turned and headed back for the exit door – her window. He was about to arch up, get outta the place he'd run from and betrayed, when he heard her quiet reply. _

_It was enough for him._

"_Stay."_

_Pause as he straightened up. _

"_Please."_

**::::::::::::::::::::::::::::**

He was in his apartment now, checking what he knew was an empty fridge and flicking on the lights in the darkened place. He shifted to his room, where he backed up against the wall and fell to a sitting position upon his single bed. Quiet. Peace. Damn, the day was mocking him. He had realized that he'd left his pack of cigarettes at Rogue's, and had nothing in the fridge to drink to ease his mind. He bent his right knee slightly and searched into his pocket for his lighter. It wasn't there. He sighed slight, sitting, knowing he'd left it at Rogue's as well. He definitely had to work on his exit strategies. He couldn't do anything about that now, and he needed to seriously sort things out in his mind.

It was a thought that had crossed his mind many times before – breaking up with Rogue. Maybe they just weren't suppose to be together. His life was what he called adventurous, but what others called hazardous to health, maybe even hazardous to sanity. He'd never be the good guy. He'd never be the one who'd talk and do the couple stuff. He was harsh as life carved him, and cold as Magneto had perfected him. He gave up on the hope he used to waste on things he knew inside would never happen to him. He'd lost meaning as to why people trusted people. He'd learned to stop caring. And that love was for stupid people.

But, on the other hand, Rogue was the one who did all the stuff he couldn't do, or wouldn't do on principle. She cared for him, when he was wounded or when he just "looked" like he needed it. She trusted him so much it was scary. She had hope in him and it was her who was able to penetrate the defenses he put up, defenses of harshness and coldness, and despite any insult he'd throw at her, anytime he'd just leave without saying anything, she'd still let him into her apartment, still accept his apologies, still let him take her hand and kiss her on the lips. She'd even kiss back, and there'd be no discussion about his actions at all.

It was the thing that made him constantly ponder: Why is she with me? Is she tied to me somehow?

Unable to bear the silence and the lack of lighter, he jumped up and walked out of his apartment, slapping the lightswitch off and shutting the door behind him. He took the steps down two at a time – elevators weren't his thing – and pre-thought what he'd say to Rogue when he went back to her apartment.

**::::::::::::::::::::::::::::**

Rogue sat quietly at the counter infront of her kitchen. She was leaning on the table, reading a newspaper idly and taking small sips of coffee from a cup. But as she was midway past turning the page of her newspaper, she dropped the whole thing and slammed the cup she was drinking from onto the table. Weakly, and dropped her head into her now folded arms and cried. She didn't know why, but she did. Pyro drove her crazy sometimes, and not in what was considered a "good" way. She'd tried everything to get past his stubbornness, to get him to open to her, to let him realize how much she loved him, but he wouldn't give. He wouldn't even say it back. Five months into a relationship and he still hadn't told her that. There was, "I care about you" and "I want to be with you" and "I want you to be mine" but no "I love you". This guy had issues with commitment.

Finally calming herself and screaming mental curses in Pyro's way, she reached out with one hand, and accidently knocked her coffee cup off the counter. She jumped a little as she came in contact with it, and cringed as she heard it break into pieces against the floor. Pulling herself, she moved to inspect the damage. Just a few shards, some big and sharp, others tiny. Also, a small puddle of coffee. Easy enough to clean up. Bending down, she picked up the big shards first, placing them into her left hand. She walked over to the trashcan, stepped on the pedal that pulled the lid up, and took one of the pieces that were almost falling. Big mistake, the pressure caused one of the pieces beneath to slice her skin.

"Shit!" she bit off, dropping the whole thing into the trash. She examine her cut up hand, which was seeping off blood into a wet base of coffee.

Reaching to her left, she grabbed at a kitchen towel and wiped off the blood and coffee. She cast off the towel onto the counter after she was done, and stalked over to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her and searching for what she needed. She stopped, bent over, and listened as she heard someone turned the door knob and walk in, shutting it quietly. Then, her name called out –

"Rogue?" asked the voice, slightly pitched in search of her.

She popped her head out of the bathroom, carrying a first aid kit in her uninjured hand, and staring at Pyro, who was behind the counter, just before what she knew was the broken cup and spilt coffee. He was holding the kitchen towel, which had some blood smeared across a part of it in a blot-like line. He moved swiftly to her and took her hand, staring at the cut, which was now seeping some more blood.

"I'm fine," she said in a low voice, tugging away. He wouldn't let her go. Touching her face, causing her knees to tremble, he traced a dried tear.

"No, you're not," he said forcefully. Let go of her hand, he added, "I'm not either."

"Why?" she asked coldly, walking to the couch and seating herself.

He followed her and sat across, watching her fiddle with a cottonball and a disinfectant bottle. He finally took both items from her grasp and applied to liquid to the cottonball, offering his hand to her. She placed her bleeding one in it and he cleaned it carefully, glancing at her cringe as the wound stung badly.

"We're not happy," he stated sadly.

"Well, I think I know that I'm happy," she said, searching the first aid kit for bandages while he cleaned her wound thoroughly.

She slammed the thing shut, unable to find them. Pyro pulled out a roll from infront of him, which was behind the kit, and unseen by Rogue. He wrapped the bandages around her hand with a touch that was so soft, she could melt.

"I don't make you happy," he said.

"No," she agreed slowly. "Not always," she added sincerely. "But you do," she said even more sincerely. Then, with as much sincerity as she could conjure up, she said, "And I love you." Now her tone was soft, when she added, not accusingly, "You're the one who had problems with saying those words."

"I've told you before why I just don't throw those words around –"

"Do you think I throw those words around?" she asked, offended.

He smiled slightly. "Rogue?" She wouldn't look at him. "Marie?" She still wouldn't look at him. "Baby," he said soothingly, and she finally looked. "I know you care about me. You care so much, I'm dumbfounded as to what I did to deserve it. And I care a lot about you too. It goes without saying, y'know, what I feel towards you. I care about you dearly."

"It's not the same as loving me."

"I just – I just don't want to say something and get your hopes up, then end up hurting you."

She smiled now, a seducing tone in her voice, "Are you planning on hurting me?"

"I'd never lay a finger on you," he replied. Then he stopped, finally done with the bandaging, and immediately realizing what she'd been implying. "Damn, I never get these things," he said, laughing slightly. She joined him.

"Don't worry, John," Rogue said, leaning closer. He shifted the first aid kit to the coffee table infront of them so she could fall into his arms. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she bent her head back to lean on his strong shoulders. "I know you'd never hurt me." She took one of his hands in hers. "But are you planning on breaking my heart?"

"It's not like I'm planning to, or that I even want to," he said, fumbling with the words. He gave up. Then, he added, his mouth close to her ear, in a soft voice, "I'd die to protect you."

His warm breath against her ear made her shiver slightly. He felt her do so, and smiled. She turned to face him, and he pulled her forward into a kiss. He wanted her badly now. And, by the way she let him push her down onto the couch, she wanted him badly too. He wouldn't let her lips go, kissing her passionately, expressing how much he _did_ love her. He moved down to her neck, and she panting now, gasping with pleasure as one of his hands traced around the insides of her thighs.

"Johnny?" she asked, panting.

"Hmm?"

"Bedroom. Now."

_**A/N:**_

_**alexmonalisa: yes, yes, ofcourse I understand =p**_

_**Update Please?**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Not Worth the Save**

**Chapter 3**

Pyro sighed slightly. He felt near his side for Rogue, but she wasn't there. Forced to open his eyes, he looked at the surrounding room. The bright lights were shining through the window to his right, so he guessed it was still daytime. He checked his watch. It was 2pm. Lunch. He looked around for her, and tried to listen to see if he could hear her, but no such luck. Pulling himself up into a sitting position, he grabbed at his boxers nearby and put them on. He couldn't count the number of times he'd slept with her then have her wake up without him in the apartment, with no note, no nothing, but for Rogue, well…this came under the category: odd. He grabbed his long-sleeved sweater nearby and threw it on, stalking out of the room. He picked up his pack of cigarettes, opened his lighter, ready to light the damn thing, then growled slightly, walking to the trashcan and dumping the whole thing. Except the lighter. He _did_ tell her he'd quit.

He spun around as the door swung open and Rogue walked in, carrying a paper bag that looked filled with something or the other, and with her other hand, a paper-tray holding four coffees.

"Hey," she said, light tone, slightly sing-song voice. She seemed happy to see him there. She placed the brown bag and the tray of coffee on the counter top and took out two Styrofoam boxes. Handing him one and placing the other infront of her, she took out one more box and a small paper bag. "I know it's kinda late, but neither of us had breakfast, so I picked something up."

She walked around the counter towards the sink, and stood on her tip-toes to reach up and open the cabinet. It was a little high for her, and she still had to reach in for the plates. He covered her, his chest touching her back, as he helped her take them down. She turned to him and smile. Genuine. He kissed her lightly on the lips. Once they parted, she smiled, embarrassed by how he was staring at her, and slipped out from his shadow and continued to fix up the food. She opened the third box, and placed the still-warm pancakes onto one of the plates. He looked at her in awe.

"I thought you'd like pancakes," she said awkwardly. He loved pancakes for breakfast. Did she know every little detail about him?

He watched her in admiration and continued awe as she emptied the contents of the paper bag onto another plate – muffins and bread. She picked up a muffin and took a bite.

"You love muffins," he said, countering her knowledge of him and pancakes.

"You remember?"

He had a distant look in his eyes as he piled a couple of pancakes onto his plate. He cut them with aggression as his voice choked over the words he was gonna say. It was gushy. He hated gushy. "Our first date. All we did was walk, eat muffins, and drink coffee." He paused. "You don't like your coffee with anything. Just plain, black, a little sugar. No milk whatsoever." He sighed and sat, staring at his pancakes menacingly. Had he really just said that?

She smiled at him from behind her muffin. He reached to the box she'd handed him earlier to find bacon and eggs. "I didn't feel like cooking," she said, trying to start the conversation, as she always did when things got awkward. She passed him one of the coffees. He took it, made a 'cheers!' sign to her, and took it down. She gaped. Heat really had no effect on him.

They stayed this way for a while. Her with her muffin and coffee, him stabbing his pancakes due to the silence.

Then he sighed, realizing how much more awkward things were gonna get after he'd said what he was about to say.

"I'd die to protect you."

Instead, she placed a hand on the table. His took it after a momentary pause.

She smiled at him. Genuine, once again. The way she smiled at him when he said stuff he felt was goofy. When he said stuff he barely said, or when he said them with feeling, or with meaning. The kind of happy smile that he loved to see, and wished he could make her do all the time. But he couldn't, so he just sucked in all the happiness he saw in her eyes.

"I know."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

_Rogue walked up to one of the park benches. It was about a month after his invasion of her room. She'd moved out, as per plan, and he'd come to see her more regularly, without breaking and entering. He'd knock, like a normal person, and she'd open without even looking through the peephole. She knew who it'd be by the way the knock sounded. The sort of drone that echoed through his every move. The lifelessness he'd be overcome with whenever he had to do anything normal. _

_Pushing the thoughts out of her head, she sat down, and shoved her hands into her pockets. Did it have to be this cold? Well, she was wrong. It got colder the minute he appeared. He sat next to her, not even looking at her, and for someone who was in love with fire, he seemed to exert a cold-deadness from within him. Then he flicked his lighter open, and lit a fire over his right palm. She sat on his right, and his palm, with the burning flames, was held up between them, lighting both their faces in the dark night. _

"_Are you feeling cold?" he asked her._

_She nodded stiffly. _

_He offered his palm more invitingly. The flame scooted up higher in the air. She looked at him reluctantly._

"_I'm already your boyfriend, y'know," he whispered to her, as though afraid people would hear him. "It's all right to hold my hand." He smirked, and the arrogance and life came back as he sunk back into the comforts of being Pyro, or, at very least, the arrogant jackass, John. The only side of John he liked, the cockiness, the sureness, the pride, the arrogance, and the smart-ass humor. The rebellion. _

"_You never actually asked me," she said, tone softer and warmer than she felt. He watched her shiver in the cold._

"_It goes without saying," he said, casual. He was staring at the flame now, but she was staring at him._

_She too smirked, and took the hand he'd been offering. The flame that floated above their interlocked hands suddenly dispersed around it, burning both their hands with a wild flame. Not the wild flame from a burning forest or a burning building. A passionate flame. There Pyro was again, expressing emotions through fire. They sat there, warming up, without burning ofcourse. _

_She watched the flames dance around their hands. A protective blanket, or a bond. _

_It was starting to get awkward. Why did it always have to get awkward?_

_Desperate to end the silence, she said, not really meaning it, "That's real impressive." Why didn't she mean it? She knew he could do better. He'd shown her how much better he could do._

_But then he snapped at her and the flame around their hands flicked off within the second. His expression turned cold, and it looked like the thoughts in his head had turned him crazed. It disturbed him, and he was surely one for showing his discomfort._

"_What are you expecting from me? Are you expecting me to sweep you off your feet?" He scoffed. "Tell you you're the only girl I wanna be with?" Now he was sneering. "Give you presents and tell you how beautiful you look?" He said the last bit with disgust hanging onto his tongue. She was taken aback by the sudden outburst. Then again, this was Pyro. Or, moreover, the new Pyro. He was full of this crap._

"_I wasn't expecting anything," she said coolly, shifting uncomfortably. He stared out front, and scoffed once more in disbelief. "Hey!" she said, turning to him instantly. He glanced at her, barely craning his neck. "I never asked you anything, John." She paused and eyed the cringe he gave her. It wasn't a jumpy cringe. It was a cringe of disgust. "You started this. You were the one who just came up to me around five minutes ago and told me I was already your girlfriend. What the heck are you expecting?"_

"_Fine," he said coldly. He turned, staring at her in the eyes. "Will you be my girlfriend?" he said with ease. So much ease that she was, once again, taken aback. _

"_Yes," she said in a muffled voice. _

_He sunk back into original position. "Told ya it goes without saying."_

_She rolled her eyes and stood up. He looked up at her._

"_Where're you going?" he asked._

"_Home," she said, suppressing the immense feelings in her that wanted to scream at him and cry infront of him, tired of him. She'd had enough for the night. _

_She turned, then felt strong hands pull her by the shoulders and into his arms. He tightened the embrace he held her with. He wasn't squeezing the breath out of her, just exclaiming that she belonged with him._

_He bent his head into her shoulder, taking in the sweet smell of her hair. "I won't say I like you. I'll barely tell you how pretty you look. I'm physical, not verbal. But I'll…" he trailed. She had stopped him, pulling out of his grasp and turning quickly to catch his lips, and take his breath away. Suddenly, he felt the warmness of his powers working up in both of them. "I'll be there anytime you need me. Anytime you call for me. I'll come." He pushed a small paper containing his phone number into her clenched hand. _

_With that he kissed her on the cheek, and walked away. _

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"I'm gonna go home, all right?" Pyro said quietly into Rogue's ear as she slept peacefully on his shoulder. It was getting pretty late.

"Okay," she mumbled. He kissed her on the head, and lay her down properly on the couch. He shut off the TV. He pulled at the blanket on the armchair nearby and threw it over her, covering every inch of her body, except her head. She wouldn't feel cold at all now. He glanced at her one last time, standing by the door now, hand on the light switch. He flicked the lights off, and left the apartment.

He wouldn't see her for the next couple of days.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Hey there," came a friendly drawl. Pyro eyed the woman who'd sat down next to him at the bar. "You look kinda lonely…" she added.

He couldn't help but smile as he gave her a once-over. Blond hair curling and hanging wonderfully. Eyes that were green and sparked with desire and power. Her skin looked soft, but she seemed like the kind of girl who could rough it in bed.

She continued to talk, "I saw you come in here last night. You look bothered." She shrugged. "Not you just look like you need to…liven up a bit." Then she smiled at him. Gave him a lustful smile. "I'm Caitlin." She bent over on the table and he found his eyes staring down the long and loose v-neck of her blouse. She followed his gaze, and smiled even more brightly. "What's your name?"

Pyro turned his glance back to his beer bottle, and took the final swig, draining it out.

"Pyro," he grunted in response.

"Sounds dangerous…" Caitlin drawled once more. She ended it with a tiny girly laugh, and he smiled at her. "You got a girlfriend?"

Pause.

Long pause.

He turned his attention away from her, and back to the empty bottle. Solemnly, as though he hand't just had seven beer and two shots, he replied, "Yeah. I do."

"You don't sound too happy about it."

He chuckled, and raised his hand once more to the bartender, who nodded and slapped another freshly opened bottle of beer infront of him.

"You really don't," Caitlin emphasized. "But…I can change that…" she looked at him hopefully. Her finger traced down his shoulder all the way down his arm until it came to his hand. "What she won't know won't hurt said girlfriend, now will it?"

Pyro cocked an eyebrow, and grinned. "I think it'd bother me." He stifled the urge to laugh at the expression on the blond's face. She blinked, obviously taken aback. She actually looked stunned. "Sorry," he added, trying to get her to leave.

He raised his hand one more time, and then pointed down infront of eight empty bottle at the money. Once he got confirmation of understanding, he got up and shrugged at Caitlin, stretching his arms.

"Are you," she started, coming closer to him, her chest against his, "sure you have a girlfriend?" She looked up at him, feinting a helpless look.

He backed away. "What makes you think I don't?"

"Cause if you did you wouldn't be out here getting drunk in a bar at two in the morning." Pleased with the expression she now left on Pyro's face, Caitlin turned around and walked away back into the storage room.

Pyro gaped at her, then slung his jacket over his back and left the bar as well.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"It's three in the morning, Johnny," Marie sighed quietly as she swung the door open reluctantly and looked at him with tired eyes. "What are you doing here at three in the friggin' morning?"

He didn't cast of a sarcastic reply at all. To her he looked wide awake. Dead tired, true, but wide awake nonetheless. He smelt of beer amongst other liquors. And he seemed to be working hard at keeping his balance, already half leaning against the doorway.

"Can I come in?" he asked slowly, looking at her.

"No," she snapped flatly.

He nodded. Ofcourse, she was ticked off. What'd he been doing for the past few months? Nothing good, that's what. But he knew his Rogue. She just needed time to blow off steam and then she'd let him back in again. She was as stuck to him as he was to her. With that last thought, Pyro took a step back, turned, and began to walk away.

"Wait – stop – you can come in," Rogue burst from behind him. He felt a sharp tug at his arm, and he turned, pulling her closer to him, and giving her a hug. She let him press her against his body as they swung slightly. "I didn't mean it, John," she said into his chest, "I'm just tired right now, okay?" He held her even closer.

"Do you love me?" he croaked, craning his neck so that his lips touched the top of her head.

"Yeah, I do," Marie said with feeling, looking up at him. He let her go for a moment.

"I love you too," he said, shuffling slightly.

"You're drunk, baby, it's okay," she said, smiling a little and slapping his face softly in a kind nature. She led the way back to her apartment, and pulled his jacket off him, casting it into the cupboard.

"I'm not drunk," he said slowly, stretching as they walked into her bedroom. Rogue unfasted her robe as he shook out of his jeans and shoes. He climbed into bed after her, and resumed holding her, and hugging her tightly. "I had an ephiphany."

"You're drunk, Johnny. It's okay," she murmured to him, planting a kiss on his lips. He let her sink back into sleep, not letting go at all.

"I'm not. I love you," he whispered into her ear.

Then he fell asleep.

**Review? Please? Cherries on top? Heck, I'll even throw in a hamster…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Not Worth the Save**

**Chapter 4**

It was one of those mornings.

It had been a month since Pyro had stumbled in, professing love. Been a peaceful month, where he continuously tried to show her that he cared, mostly just by being there. Other times by tolerating the visits from Jubilee, and the glares he got from the visits of Logan. Been a month since he nearly wrecked the relationship, and things were starting to feel pretty fine.

He could finally say that it was all right. But heck if he could say that he was forgiven.

That's the point at which he's staring at her, while she fixes her hair up in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror. He's staring at her in turn, watching her. He knew she'd forgiven him, like all the other times. That she'd put aside his faults to just feel him there, next to her, caring, breathing, making sure she was okay.

She walked out of the bathroom to pick up the ringing phone.

A moment, and some murmuring, she turned to him, and said weakly, "It's for you."

He took the call, barely listened to what he was hearing. But he knew the basics. It was, yet again, one of _those_ times. The times where the mansion would ask for his help in some badass mission. The times where he wouldn't go up eagerly to help, but help either way to show gratitude, or – at the very least – respect. He was briefed by Logan. Some trouble downtown, and he was gonna accompany him there to check it out. There had been reports of fires, and sudden loud noises like firecrackers bursting in rooms, along with screams and shouts. His kinda area. With that, Pyro hung up and looked at Rogue, his Marie, who was now sitting across him on the bed, fists balled up in worry.

"Don't go," she said.

"I gotta." He shrugged, bent forward and kissed her on the forehead, before getting up and walking out of the room. "I'll be back later," he added reassuringly from the living room before leaving the apartment.

It was a silent drive to the Academy, and a silent drive with Logan, who mostly just scoffed whenever he glanced Pyro's way.

"I don't like working with you either, kid. But Storm said to take you."

Pyro nodded curtly, and kept his eyes on the road. Soon they parked, and got out. The area was a little deserted. The building they were visiting was boarded up, and there was a lot of the graffiti on the walls. Lots of damage to the walls, the cement, and the door. But they walked in anyway, taking in the burst of dust that seemed to fill up their lungs.

Pyro coughed a little. Logan smirked.

"How're you and Rogue doing?" he asked, trying to make simple conversation.

"Trying to make her as happy as possible."

"Good. She deserves happiness." Logan ended it at that, then examined around the empty halls. "There's nothing down here," he concluded, walking up the stairs. Pyro followed.

Then they heard sobbing. First it was Logan, who held up his hand immediately, and paused to listen. He led the way to one of the apartments, where the door was blasted off its hinges. They walked in to find a little girl, maybe ten, with blond hair that was covered in dirt, and whose face was glittering with fresh tears, and shining with dried tears. Her clothes were ripped, and she looked so afraid.

Logan knelt down beside her.

"You okay? What happened here?" he asked, trying to soothe her down.

She shook her head violently and sobbed even harder.

"It's okay, you can tell me," Logan insisted. He held up a hand, offering peace to the little girl. She took it, and he helped her stand up. She shook her head at his offer, and pointed to Pyro instead.

He looked wary. He didn't want to talk to little kids. But Logan motioned him forward, and backed away as Pyro knelt down to the height of the little girl.

"What happened?"

"Welcome to war," she remarked in a voice that didn't suit her age.

But it was a voice he remembered. A voice he'd heard so much during training. His eyes grew wide in surprise, then the little girl morphed into a brunette with cold blue eyes, who then pulled him away and pushed him aside within a fraction of a minute, saving him as the area where she sat earlier was blasted forward, and soon a new cloud of dust separated Pyro and the woman from Logan. She pulled him quickly to hit feet, and dragged him away with a lot of strength. He was out of the building, jumping off the fire escape as the entire thing exploded in energy, and the two of them ducked outta site.

"You just died," she told him, a sound of pride in her voice, as she morphed once again. This time into a blue woman, with scales on her skin and bright red hair. Her yellow eyes softened. "Hey."

Instead, he remarked, "I just died?"

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

"Here," Mystique offered, throwing him a wet towel as he wiped his face. He was covered in dust and soot, or whatever it was. His muscles kind of hurt. The energy blast had him them, whether or not they were still alive.

"What do you mean I'm dead?"

"The building exploded. Wolverine didn't see you. You're officially dead. He can't die, remember? But you can. And you did. Or so they will think."

"You can't just do that to me," he said angrily.

"Pretty sure we just did," she replied, smiling. "I imagined you happier after that scenario. What's wrong?"

"I'm dead, that's what's wrong."

"We know you're not really dead. You're here, infront of me, are you not? What really bugging you?"

Pyro turned away, and threw the towel at the floor. He sat down on the chair in the small room.

"It was a lure, wasn't it?"

"Not my fault the X-Men are very gullible," Mystique bit off, once again sounding triumphant. "We need you. You're still a part of the Brotherhood. Tell me you're still for the cause."

"Yeah, I'm for the cause," Pyro snapped, indignant at the suspicion. "You know me, Mystique. I'm all for the cause and the fight."

"Good. So you won't mind if you leave your girlfriend behind?" Mystique asked, eyebrows raised. "I tracked you beforehand. My, my, Johnny-boy. Never thought you'd sink _that_ low without the team to keep you on the right track."

"Fuck you," he said shortly.

"Sorry. But to her you're dead as well," Mystique sad, not helping his temper. He got up and kicked the chair.

"I'm leaving." He walked to the door, and pulled it open.

"If you leave – no, correction – if you leave _because_ of her, they'll kill her. You know it. Don't challenge them, Pyro." Her tone was grave, and Pyro knew she was telling the truth. He froze on the spot, and grunted in anger, but shut the door in agreement.

"The moment we're done, I'm out."

"Good luck with that," Mystique said, leading him into another room.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Logan tromped across the wreckage a few minutes after the blast took hold of the building. He called out for Pyro, and then tried to sniff him out, but got nothing. Maybe it was all the dust, but he couldn't find the guy. Then he saw it. He was amazed by how it still managed to glisten through all the dust. But he picked it up.

Pyro's lighter. With no Pyro.

He gritted his teeth slightly, and looked around, taking one last glance. Then his phone buzzed. He took it out, amazed by how it still worked, and then it shut down completely. Useless.

He walked away from the site. He had some news to break out.

"Logan, where have you been?" Storm practically screamed at him. He wrapped her in his arms and gave her a tight squeeze of comfort. "I was so worried, I – where's John?" He looked at her grimly, and gritted his teeth again. The look of relief on Storm's face turned to horror. "Oh, no," she murmured. "No, no, no…Logan – Pyro…No. Oh, Rogue…" She turned around, taking it in. She grew silent. "Are you sure?" she asked him.

He nodded numbly.

"He was…" Storm said, trying to find some words to comment on Pyro's character. "He…" She paused painfully. "He loved her."

Logan hung his head. The door burst open, and Rogue came in, followed by a frantic Jubilee. But if Jubilee was frantic, Rogue looked hysteric. She looked at both leaders for a moment, and burst into a cry.

"Jubilee said you arrived alone!" she croaked at Logan, choking back tears, and trying to level her voice as much as possible. "Logan – where is he?" she cried, overcome with sobs.

"Oh, honey," Storm said, taking her in her arms, as Rogue sobbed into her shoulder. She sat down, and rubbed her back soothingly. "I'm sorry," she said. She could feel Rogue breathing heavily against her. The girl was shaking with sobs. She parted from Storm's hug, but hugged herself, head bent down, so only her back could be seen. Her heart felt like it wasn't there anymore.

"No! He's not!" she screamed, sounding muffled through the sobs.

"I'm sorry," Logan said sincerely, finally speaking up. She shivered in response, and he sat on the other side of her." He took her hand, forced it open, and placed Pyro's lighter in her hand. Jubilee gasped audibly. "Rogue?" he asked cautiously, waiting for a response.

But his little girl, his kid, just simply sobbed harder than ever. She got up suddenly, arms held up to her face as she wiped across it, smearing away tears, and half-ran out, getting into her car, ignoring the fact that Pyro's motorcycle was still parked infront of the Academy, and tried to turn the ignition on. Nothing happened. She didn't have the strength in her to turn the key fully. Instead, she collapsed on the steering wheel, and said in between gasps for air.

"John. Johnny." She sat up straight, and felt his lighter with her hand. Stared at it with her own eyes. "Johnny. Baby…" she paused, and shook again in sobs, her hair falling down the front of her face as she bent down into a cower again. "Baby…come back…you said you'd come back…" The last part came out in a whisper as she covered her face with her hands, and sunk into her chair, wishing more than anything that she could have this morning back once again.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Pyro threw his jacket on the bed and dropped on top of it. He was aching all over. He was scratched up too. The latest battle was horrendous. It was really a war, but silent, fought where no one could see it. And he was amazing. He felt amazing. It was like adrenaline was a part of his blood, of his DNA, and not just a feeling anymore. He loved it. The action. The adventure. He was smiling, even though he was tired. Genuinely smiling.

"Knew we'd have the same old Pyro back within a week," Mystique said happily, dropping into a chair next to him and sighing. "How's it feel to be part of the action?"

He cast of the question. The answer was right infront of her anyway. Instead, he asked, "When do I get to see Mags?"

"Soon. Erik is still suffering displeasures. Getting hit with five needles, being injected with five doses of the cure, it takes a while."

"I get it," Pyro replied. Then he asked another question, "How'd you get your powers back?"

"I willed it, and worked hard to find myself again. Then it just came back slowly. First I could do voices, then I could change color, and then I became me again," Mystique said excitedly.

"Good to hear, good to hear," Pyro amended. "I can't believe we won."

"More like we got out of there alive," Mystique corrected him. "Don't act too sure of yourself, Pyro. It's been one of your downfalls, from the start."

"Right, whatever," Pyro cast off again. He stared at the floor in concentration. He'd lost interest in their conversation, as he had many times before. All those times when his thoughts would drag him back to Rogue.

It had been a week and a few days now. To her, he was dead. Gone. He'd left her, and not in the fashion that usually ended with him coming back. He felt sickened with himself. He didn't care if it was 'acting too sure of himself' as Mystique said, but he knew she was definitely suffering. That she was…mourning him. Literally beginning to try to let go, and accept that he wasn't gonna be with her anymore. It sickened him deeply. He detested himself. He was making her go through all that pain. He loved her. He wanted to tell her he was alive. Let her know that he'd come back, even if it was after ten years. But he'd return to her, and be his again.

He'd promised he'd die to protect her.

And now, he was dead to her.

**A/N: Hi! I uber-apologize for the late update. Is it late? I haven't checked, but I'm willing to bet it is. Just been drowned by a lotta school stuff. Still am, but it doesn't matter. I love Ryro, and I need to take a break and sit down and write. More to come, anyway.**

**COMMENT!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Not Worth the Save**

**Chapter 5**

Pyro gasped at the air as he ran through the tall trees in the night. He raced over fallen logs and tracked through mud, not letting up for a moment. He sped up as fast as he could, taking different routes to try to throw off his opponents. No luck.

A huge ball of blue light flew forward and caused a sharp ignition of blue flames against one of the trees, which dropped to the ground, and sealed off Pyro's escape. He skidded to a stop, spreading twigs and leaves. He looked back – they were closing in on him. He looked forward. The blue flames, they weren't normal. They weren't controllable. He was sealed off. He had two choices. Attempt escape, which was highly unlikely, or fight.

His eyes narrowed, and a grin began to slip onto his lips as he turned back to the oncoming threats. He withdrew his arm, and pushed it forward, sending large red and orange flames which spread and split faster than anyone would've expected. They engulfed everything, and grew so wild…and _powerful_. So _alive_. He was in full control now. The sweat at the back of his neck grew heated, and his heart beat to the most wonderful rhythm. He felt powerful. He felt alive.

And soon, his opponents wouldn't be.

* * *

And he was right.

As he dragged himself back into the apartment he was hiding in, he felt tired. But great. He dropped onto his bed, and sighed with relief. That had to be the most exciting night he'd had in ages. He had really connected with his powers, again. Gone beyond the average measure, and come pouring with his own strength. It was like adrenaline, and it was drowning him. And he liked every drop of it.

He stared at the ceiling, and let his mind unravel. His right hand flipped his lighter's cap open and closed in a calm, therapeutic way. His breathing felt less rushed and more peaceful. He was peaceful.

He turned over, and closed his eyes, beginning to fall asleep.

So quiet. The night was so quiet. He could practically fall asleep…and never wake up.

But then he did. His eyes bolted open, and his chest heaved in panic. He felt less calm, less peaceful, and more rushed. More trouble. More disturbed. He sat up at the side of his bed, and stared at the floor instead. His sweat was cold, and he felt weak. He felt…sick; sick with himself. He swallowed hard, his breathing increasing in pace. He jumped to his feet, and walked into the bathroom, twisting the tap open, and taking a cupful of water in his hands. He washed his face quickly, and stared at his pale figure in the partly broken mirror. He stared at his sickly form, his weak eyes, his serious, yet sad expression. The gravity of him was scary.

_I'm dead…_

* * *

Rogue lifted her head from her arms. She was sitting in the corner of her now cleaned up apartment, her back to the wall, her legs up close to her chest, her arms on her knees, and her hair falling over her face. She sniffed slightly, but shook off the urge to cry and break down. Instead, she buried her head back in her arms, breathing softly, holding herself from a shriek. She rocked slightly in her effort to stay calm, and then stood up, and walked around the empty apartment. The only thing there, aside from her, were dozens of boxes filled with _their_ stuff. Boxes of hers, and hers only, and boxes of his. She paced around in a vertical position, then changed position, but continued pacing. She pushed her hair back, but it fell down her face again, covering her flushed cheeks, with their dried-tear stains. She inhaled as much breath as possible, before sitting again in the same corner, and trying to shake away the dread. It was so cold. So empty.

And then she got up again, and repeated the procedure.

She could not sleep. Not again. Never again.

* * *

But she did. Or had. Eventually. Because when she woke up, she was in the same corner, watching the sun shine in through the window, lighting up the room. She was tired, and felt exhausted. Standing up, she felt the blood rush down to her ankles, and slowly walked towards the door, taking her jacket off the rack. She put it on, and left the apartment, taking the stairs as she headed down.

She stumbled into a nearby diner, the tiny bell on the door ringing as she entered, and paid for a large coffee, before reentering the cold of the morning, and heading back for the apartment. She got as far as the staircase of her floor, when she sat down on the bottom step, and rubbed her face with her hands. She sipped some of her coffee, before dropping it on the ground. Her head was killing her, and she leaned on the handlebar, feeling her head swirl, and loosing her grip to stay in sitting position. She dropped forward, and puked. It hurt her as she practically spilt her guts out. Her sides hurt, and her heart felt like it was trying to beat out of her chest. She gripped at her sides, before collapsing backwards, her head colliding with the edge of a step. She felt the searing pain of collision, but it didn't matter. She felt too numb, too cold. Unable to move. She was losing grip of sight, and hearing. Everything was clouding up. Then she saw nothing at all.

* * *

Logan knocked on Marie's apartment door. When there was no response, he fiddled with the handle, trying to open the door. No such luck. Was she out? He turned around. He decided that she'd gone out for breakfast. However, in the back of his head, something told him that that was not the case. Marie was very disoriented. She was always on the edge of her emotions, and barely ate. He looked at the staircase as he headed for the elevator. Then he stopped and backed up. Marie was sprawled out on the floor. On the ground before her was vomit. Vomit mixed with some blood. He jumped a few steps instantly, and ran to her side, picking her up, and trying to wake her up. She didn't budge, didn't even shift slightly in his arms. She looked so pale, and so weak. She felt clammy, and her breathing was very soft and slow. He felt for her pulse, feeling a weak heartbeat. Picking her up, he ran for the car, and sped for the Academy.

* * *

"So this is what you do on an off day?" Mystique joked, picking up an empty beer can and tossing it into the trash. Pyro was bent over, staring at the floor as she walked and stood under the doorway of his bedroom. He grunted something at her, but she just folded her arms, leaned against the doorway, and smiled. "Today we truly welcome back Pyro."

"Shut up," he growled. He cringed at the blood rushing in his head. The hangover was taking its toll.

Mystique stepped over the remained river of beer cans and sat down next to him. She forced him to look her in the eye. "I'll get you some coffee," she murmured, before dropping his head as he fell back into previous position. She rose, and headed for the door.

"I wanna see her."

She paused, and turned to face him. "I'm gonna assume that that idiotic question is a result of your hangover, and ignore it." She moved forward again, but he spoke once more.

"I'm serious. I need to know if she's all right."

"She's fine," Mystique assured him, though the message was shallow and without meaning.

"Yeah? How do you know?"

"I don't. And you won't. So get up, throw up, and fix the mess that you are, because you sound pathetic." She marched out of the apartment, and slammed the door shut.

He looked up at her last word, and cringed at the door. But he'd caught what she'd said. Every word.

* * *

"_You sound pathetic!" he said, slamming the door in her face. _

_She paused for a moment, then hammered on to it with her fist. "You're a jackass, John Allerdyce! You were born bitter and you're gonna die alone!" When there was no reply, she hammered even harder. "You don't know the first thing about humanity, you heartless bastard! You're not powerful, you're stupid! And that's what's gonna get you killed someday!" She waited once more, then he swung the door open. He glared at her, gritting his teeth._

"_Marie," he said venomously. "Go. Away. We've had sex, it's over. You can go now." He slammed the door shut in her face again. She kicked it hard. _

"_You're right," she said, smiling smugly. "We've had sex. That means you screwed a human, you moron! You just went against your own principles. And you are never – ever – touching me again -"_

_He swung the door open once more, and yanked her arm, pulling her into a kiss. She slapped him, and he bit his lower lip, staring at the ground, deep in thought. That lasted only a moment, because in the next instance, he crashed control over her lips once more, kissing her passionately, as though he were trying to suck the life out of her. His hands travelled quickly to the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head, not letting up for a moment. She didn't squirm, or back away, but wrapped her arms around his neck, and clenched at his hair. He pulled her towards the couch, and dropped her on it, rubbing her hips as he lifted her skirt so it covered her stomach. He traced around her panties, before pulling them off slowly, and throwing them behind onto the ground. She was squirming now. But not in restrain. It was in pleasure. He smiled as his tongue danced with hers, and she pulled his shirt over his head. Her hands rubbed against his back as one of his rubbed her between the thighs. She buckled, but he held her in place. His other hand was moving up her stomach to her breasts, which were still guarded by her bra. He fiddle with that. Then stopped. His other hand slowly felt her between the thighs, rising to feel her core, stroking her so caring, so gentle, so agonizingly good. She moaned into his mouth, and he felt himself harden within his pants. _

_She began to unbuckle his belt, but yanked him forward as he shoved two fingers up into her in one swift move. It hurt, and it felt good. She shook slightly underneath him, and he withdrew his fingers almost fully, before shoving them back in, quick, and making sure she felt the pain. It turned him on, and it turned her on. She finally got rid of his pants, and pulled his length out from his boxers, kicking those aside as well. His fingers retracted from her inside, but continued to stroke her clit. Her mouth parted from his slightly as she shivered and gave off a shaky moan, breathing huskily. She began to leak down her thighs. _

_He kissed her on the neck, and she stroked his length, slowly, painfully slow, making his heart beat twice as fast. He grabbed her by the wrists, and held her down, before looking into her eyes, and then kissing her gently on the forehead. He was still holding her wrists down against the couch. He slowly entered her, and she squirmed thoroughly. He filled her inside almost entirely, hitting her barrier, before he pushed even more, and ended up buried at the hilt. She was shaking under the impact, and the slowness of it all. It was torture this way. _

_He began to pull out almost completely, before pushing back in again, just as slow. She gripped his hands, and matched his rhythm, hips swaying as he began to increase speed, and stopped being so gentle. Soon, he was tearing into her, and jerking out, before tearing right back in. Her legs were trembling, her hands were tight, and her eyes fluttered. He stared down at her breasts, still covered by her bra, as he continued to make her twist with pleasure and discomfort. She pulled him down and breathed into his ear. He had stopped, buried in her at the moment. _

_Her effort had caused him to harden tightly, and he was filled in her just as tight. It was painful, but right. He looked at her, and she kissed him. He undid her bra, finally, and licked her between her breasts, before settling on one and biting it slightly, then moving to the next and repeating the procedure. She rubbed his back, and he rubbed her thighs, randomly appearing before her eyes and kissing her passionately. Her hands travelled down to wear they were joined, and traced the area, causing him to jerk in discomfort. _

_She didn't stop, and could feel herself ready to come. He was panting now, eyes closing and breath increasing in pleasure. He was about to come as well. He tried as much as possible to not, but he knew he would soon. He slowly began to pull out again, and then, in another swift move, pushed back in, before collapsing on top of her, and spilling out completely within her. She murmured something in his ear, but he didn't hear her. He pulled out finally, white liquid falling on her thighs, and shifted slightly so he held her in his arms, his eyes closed, a smile on his face, and his breathing beginning to return to normal. But not yet quite normal. _

_She looked at him, before he suddenly jerked up, and shifted again, parting her thighs, and rubbing the insides of them. She looked at him, and rolled her eyes. But she still began to jerk in discomfort as he raised his hand to her insides again, and rubbed at her clit. Her chest heaved. Then he yanked her up, legs still parted, and bent down, tasting her. She barely caught her breath as he licked her all over, sending shivers down her spine, and causing her entire body to contract in pain. She whimpered slightly, before breaking as well. Her juices trickled down her legs as he let her go. _

_Satisfied, he readjusted, lying next to her, as her hands rubbed his chest, and she nibbled slightly on his ear. He held her in his arms, and buried his face in her hair. _

"_That was amazing," he murmured. She nodded in agreement. _

* * *

And then a few days after that…

"_Tell me, what is this about, John? Because I have no idea," Marie said, holding her hands up as she rolled her eyes and walked out of the room. He followed her, head throbbing from his previous night at the bar. He blinked a few times, then looked at her. _

"_I have no fucking clue, Marie," he said shortly. He bit his bottom lip as his brain thrashed on the inside of his skull. _

_She looked at him, with his groggy eyes, half-asleep, tired, messed up, smelling strongly of alcohol, and sighed. "Right." She grabbed her bag off the couch, and headed for the door. "Right."_

_Then she swung the door open, and left. He cringed as the door shut. It took him a few moments to realize everything that was going on, but he quickly left after her, ignoring the pain of his hangover. He caught her at the elevator, and slid into it as well as it's doors slid close. _

"_This…" he started, searching for the right words. "This is something." He cleared his throat. "I have no idea what exactly it is, but it's something. And you agree with me. Otherwise, you wouldn't have come here today, or yesterday, or the day before that."_

"_Is it really something if all we do is fight?" she asked him, not looking at him._

_He, however, looked at her, and answered with the most just truth he could think of. _

"_I dunno."_

* * *

And then, after a few months…

"_This is…nice," Marie said, sitting on a bench, a cup of coffee in her gloved hand. It was a cold night. Pyro sat next to her, and put his arm around her shoulder. "You've really outdone yourself."_

_He snorted. "Sure," he said sarcastically. But he still held her by his arm. "What do you wanna do?" he asked, taking a gulp of his coffee, and making a choking sound as the heat of it burned his throat. She smiled at him, rolling her eyes. _

"_You all right?" _

"_Peachy," he remarked. She rolled her eyes again. "Will you stop doing that?" he snapped._

"_I will when you stop making those sarcastic comments for no good reason," she snapped back, smiling._

_He smiled, and pushed her head onto his shoulder with his hand. She snuggled against his warmth._

"_Johnny?" she asked, breathing against his neck, sending shivers down his spine with her voice._

_He grunted in response. _

"_Johnny?" she asked again._

"_Yes?" he amended. _

"_What makes you happy?"_

"_Stupid question."_

"_Valid question."_

"_Fine."_

"_So answer it."_

"_No."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because it's a stupid question."_

"_Answer it," she said, hitting him on the chest with a balled fist._

_He sighed, and stared at the darkness of the night sky. _

"_What…makes me…happy?" he asked, repeating the question. She nodded against his shoulder. "Okay…uh…different things."_

"_You mean your powers," she concluded._

"_Yeah," he deadpanned. "Look, I'm not the happiest person, Marie. You already know that."_

"_Yeah, I do. But still."_

"_Still what?"_

"_Isn't there more to your life than your powers?"_

"_Yeah," he said, thinking carefully. "There's food, sleep, television," he said, counting them off with his fingers. "Uh, drinks, cigarettes, and girl."_

"_Girls," she corrected._

_He shook his head._

"_Girl." She looked up at him. He didn't have any particular expression on, and he was staring straight ahead. "As in singular. Girl."_

**A/N: Reviews make me happy. So does candy, but lets stick with reviews for now =]**

**And I like SERIOUSLY apologize for the late update. I've been swamped (Yes, yes, please "buy" my lame excuse) I'll update soon, I got time this week. **


	6. Chapter 6

**Not Worth the Save**

**Chapter 6**

Dr. Hank McCoy grimaced as he arrived at the door of the living room. Logan and Storm were inside alone. Logan sitting on the couch, Storm staring out the window. Both looked tense and worried. He sighed, catching Storm's eye, and sitting down across Logan. Storm immediately took a seat next to him, and stared across at Hank as he began to speak.

"I've run a lot of tests," he said first, quietly. His voice was calm, low and strained as he looked at them both. "And…" He grimaced. "It doesn't look good."

Logan grit his teeth and slowly nodded, but Storm asked, "What do you mean?"

"She's sick again," Hank said solemnly. "And, it's bad. She's going to be in a lot of pain. And recovery is improbable."

They grew silent. Logan exhaled, and stared at the ground. Storm put an arm on his shoulder, trying to get him to look up at her. Then Logan stood up abruptly, and Storm gave a start.

"Bullshit," he almost snarled. "She got better before!"

"It's not the same as before, Logan," Hank said, his voice raising according to Logan's.

"It doesn't matter," Logan deflected. "She'll get better."

"She's already at the worst. The best thing we can do for her now is to make it as painless as possible."

"You're asking me to just let her die?" Logan nearly screamed. "NO! The _best_ thing we can do for her to _save_ her!"

"She can't be saved," Hank sighed.

"Hank." It was Storm this time. Her voice too was strained, almost choked. "Isn't there anything –?"

"There's nothing."

"There's always something," Logan snapped. "Isn't that how this place has worked for the past few years? There's always been a solution. A way to solve any problem or issue. And you're telling me now that the only thing I'll be able to do for Marie is watch her die?"

"There is no reason to believe she'll get better. There's also no reason to put her through the strain of medication if there's only a slim chance of recovery. If there was a way to save her life, you know I'd tell you."

There was silence once more. Logan shook his head, and held up his hands slightly, and stalked out of the room. The door slammed loudly behind him as he left the Academy. Storm exhaled, and looked thoroughly disturbed at the news.

"Does she know?" she asked.

"Yes. I talk about it with her first, before I came here. I also told her that we could try to cure her, but she said there was no need."

"She's all right with dying?"

"I asked her that too. She just said that she was done trying to fight it. She was well past tired the last time, and now she just wants it to be peaceful. The only thing she wants to do is make sure everyone's all right with her decision." Hank thought for a moment. "Including Logan, and _especially_ Logan."

"Can I see her?" Storm asked. Hank nodded, and led the way up the stairs.

* * *

Storm creaked the door open, and looked inside. Marie smiled at her. She was sitting on her bed, her phone in her lap, staring at the window. Storm took a seat at the end of her bed, and looked at her sadly.

Marie spoke first.

"Logan's just stalked out, hasn't he?" she practically whispered.

"He just needs time to accept things," Storm replied, carefully choosing her words.

"What do you think about my decision?"

"I think that it's yours to make."

Marie smiled, and almost laughed. She nodded.

"Thank you, Storm. For everything."

"Ofcourse, dear," Storm said, standing up and kissing her on the head.

She found the girl crying as she did, and pulled her into a hug. Storm rubbed shushed her softly, and rubbed her arm to comfort her. Marie kept on weeping. She had his lighter clenched tightly in his hand, and felt so cold despite everything that was happening.

* * *

Pyro paled. He gripped the tree for support and choked on the fumes. His eyes were wide and nearly unfocused. He collapsed to his knees and flicked open his lighter. Flames shot out as a big ring, just like when he had fought Bobby. But his ring hover, and was thicker, and more strong. However, it sparked, as weakness began to take over his body. As the poison slowly, but painfully, took effect. He coughed, and wheezed before shutting his eyes tightly in strain. The rings all blew forward in jets, and destroyed everything with a blast loud enough to shatter glass. It took the poisoned air with the ruins of trees and scorched ground.

In the end the flames died slowly. Mystique trekked forward, a mask on her face. She took off the mask and shoved it on Pyro's face. His eyes began to close, before she slapped him and he blinked.

"Don't go to sleep!" she urged him.

He was sprawled on the ground, sweating, paling, losing visibility. But it all came back. And when he was breathing normally, she retracted the mask, and he grinned weakly. She looked annoyed.

"Man up, Pyro. This isn't a game," she said shortly before standing up and moving past the trees.

She disappeared, and he stood up slowly, before crashing back down to the ground on his knees. He moved into a sitting position, and leaning against the tree, stared at the place he had just incinerated. He had so much power now. It was all worth it. Right? He closed his eyes, and thought back on Mystique's words…yet again.

* * *

_"Man up, Pyro! This isn't a game!" Marie snapped at him as she grabbed her bag and emptied the contents on the living room floor. She dropped to her knees, and scattered them around, searching for something._

_"And what?!" he said in reply, pacing in the kitchen area. "Let you die?!"_

_"I'm not asking you to do anything!" she screamed, searching more frantically than ever._

_"Well that's the point!" he yelled, turning to her. He walked into the living room and opened a drawer, taking out a bottle of pills. He grabbed a glass quickly from the cupboard over the sink and filled it with water before dropping on his knees before her. He gave her the glass and gave her one of the pills. She took it down, looking paler than before their argument had started. "I'm not gonna just stand here and do nothing, Marie," he said firmly._

_"I'm done. We all know I'm done."_

_"No, you're not. You're still getting treatment. You're gonna be fine."_

_"And if I'm not?" she asked, leaning against the couch and closing her eyes._

_"You will. Listen to me: I'd die to protect you. I promise. So I'm not just let you die because you're sick. You're getting better…"_

_She opened her eyes at him, and scoffed._

_"I know a guy," he then started slowly. "Who's got this power…"_

_"To make me better?" she asked softly._

_"In a sense," he agreed slowly._

_"Meaning?"_

_"Well, his label says 'A Life for A Life'."_

_She sat up straight, and look at him._

_"Shut up, John," she said, standing up and heading for her bedroom._

_She kicked off her shoes and climbed in, pulling the blankets to keep her warm. She felt so cold nowadays. He sat beside her as she turned her back to him. He didn't do anything, but held out a hand, and soon flames ignited. It kept her warm, even more warm than the blankets did. She cried there and then, but kept in her shortened breaths._

_"I'm not gonna let you die," he whispered, before kissing her on the cheek. His flames disintegrated and he headed for the door._

_"I'm not asking you for that, John. I'm asking you to just be there." She paused, and stared straight down to stop him from seeing her tears. But her voice was shaky, and he knew. "Just be there."_

_He stopped, and backtracked, like so many times before, and got into the same bed, placing his arms around her, and letting her lay her head on his shoulder as she slept._

_

* * *

_

_"Told you so," he said, pulling her to sit next to him as they sat under a big tree. She leaned against him, and took hold of his hand._

_"Yeah, yeah. Just gloat."_

_"You're cured," he added, with a knowing smirked. She play-punched him on the chest. He caught her other hand, and didn't let go. She sighed as he pulled her into a hug._

_"I'm better now. It's different."_

_He didn't get discouraged. "Well, you're gonna stay that way."_

_Then they were quiet, until he tightened the hug he had her in slightly._

_"I'd die to protect you."_

_"I know." Pause. "And don't."_

**A/N: Damn! I am sooo…bad in updating! I'm sorry. Forgive me. Enjoy the update. There will be more. =]**


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